


skirting expectations

by stevebuckiest



Series: skirt steve [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Body Image, Boys In Love, Boys in Skirts, Character Study, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sleepy Boys, Stubborn Steve Rogers, body issues, bucky is the world’s most supportive bf, i dont know how to tag this, kind of, steve is very stubborn and wears a skirt in public, steve rogers in a skirt to be specific, steve wears skirts to help him feel more connected to himself, the author is projecting just a little, the lack of that...insane smh, they take a nap to top it all off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26061910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: Disaster- or at least his shit sense of luck today- strikes when he reaches a hand into his bag to pull out his black Nike sweats and pulls it back out holding what he’s beginning to realize is the black Nike skirt he’s been wearing around the house after workouts lately instead.Oh, shit
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: skirt steve [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918360
Comments: 24
Kudos: 187





	skirting expectations

**Author's Note:**

> written because i feel like there isn’t enough appreciation for steve’s self expression and love for soft things as well <3 if you think this is dumb please do not tell me! i don’t want to know. this idea is very dear to my heart.

The debriefing with Fury drags on too long- as always. At this point, they’ve all come to expect it (the longest one, by most recent record, had gone on about three hours and twenty eight minutes thanks to some particularly disastrous intel), but that doesn’t mean it gets any less tiresome as time goes on. If anything, Steve’s more tired than he was the first time because he knows there’s a chance they won’t be getting out of here anytime soon.

If he weren’t still acting as Captain, he might be at the point of grumpiness to do something dumb, like stomp his foot- but as it is, he _is_ still acting as Captain, and having the bright red boots currently encasing his feet strike the floor because Captain America is throwing a hissy fit….Steve doesn’t even want to know how much trouble he would be in if he went so far as to scuff the linoleum.

Still, even if he can’t outwardly show it past a shared tight-lipped look with Natasha standing next to him, Steve is allowed to be irritated. He’s allowed to be tired. _Especially_ when they're all still stuck in uniform while Fury prattles on in front of them about something even Steve has lost track of. Frankly, Steve is exhausted, and the twenty pounds of too-snug kevlar and hardware he has strapped to his body isn’t doing much to help his energy levels.

His legs are chafing so much in the sweat soaked fabric of his pants that he feels like he’s in a god damn _furnace_. He’s sweaty, aching, and practically itching for a shower, but there’s not much he can really do about his position or his outfit when he’s still on the job like he is right now. 

God, maybe Bucky was right when he brought up retirement last week. He might have been joking- at least at that moment- but Steve would rather be _anywhere_ than in this conference room right now wearing _anything_ besides this uniform. 

Waiting for Fury to stop talking makes him feel like a toy that’s wound up too tight, anticipation settling in his already aching muscles and getting them so tense that as soon as the team gets waved off with a hand that somehow manages to be even more irritated than the gruff “hit the showers” that follows it, Steve can feel his shoulders relaxing, slumping down until he’s practically leaning against Bucky who’s pressed up at his six like always.

His chest feels nice, even through both of their (currently disgusting) uniforms, and Steve allows himself to settle against it momentarily. Just to collect himself for a moment. He needs to take a break just so he can go _actually_ take a break, that’s how tired he is. 

Christ. He thought the dismissal was never going to come. 

Now that it finally has, he can’t seem to find it in himself to force movement, lolling his head forward with a groan once Bucky laughs and gives him a gentle push to get him to lean up.

“C’mon, Captain,” he says, voice somehow weary and chipper at the same time as he guides about 240 pounds of fellow super soldier forward and out the door with Fury’s staunch eye glaring out after the sight of them and the rest of the team trailing out and towards the locker room. “Mission’s over.”

Steve huffs tiredly, but gladly lets Bucky span a gentle palm over the small of his back while he tries to get his legs to cooperate (they’re so rubbery, he might as well go back to the chicken legged look he’d had going on before the serum- it’s so humid in his pants they _feel_ like they’re cooking like chicken, in any case). “Won’t be over ‘til we’re out the door, Buck, you know that.”

Bucky snorts and falls in next to Steve’s side once they get walking, hand still on him. “I do know that. Probably won’t be over even after that, but there’s no damn way in _hell_ they’re getting me back in there without at least letting me take a shower first.”

“Me either,” Sam says under his breath, pace quickened beside them. He looks just as tired and eager to get out of here as Steve feels, punching a hand against the down button to the elevator, one thankfully big enough for all of them to pile into in one trip.

If Steve tenses back up when he gets pushed to the back...well, no one can blame him thanks to past _incidents_ in similar places, but Bucky sliding the hand on his back over to squeeze at his hip makes him relax- he doesn’t have the energy to be on edge, anyways. Whoever designed this uniform did _not_ put enough thought into ventilation. Steve feels like the last of his remaining strength is being siphoned out by the oppressive fabric on his legs. 

Idly, while the elevator is still going down, he lets his mind wander towards a daydream that centers around cool breezes and more enjoyable fabrics. He’s not exactly an expert, but kevlar and polyester (thanks, USO tights) are his two least favorite, he would say. Practically the bane of his existence (well, besides the whole “life saving” aspect of the kevlar- Bucky, he knows would argue that point, but _Steve’s_ point still stands. Would it kill them to give him something more breathable? Who would he even go to with the complaint? He’ll have to ask Pepper later).

He silently thanks god he has some soft sweats waiting for him in his duffel bag downstairs- the new Nike ones he ordered last week. He wants them so bad he could cry. 

He thunks his head against Bucky’s shoulder just thinking about them, groaning out “ _shuddup, Barnes_ ” at Bucky’s responding laugh when the elevator immediately dings after he’s gotten himself comfortably rested. 

God, damn his luck today. 

He sighs and pushes himself up with a grimace, letting Bucky’s touch shepherd him forward once again until they’ve finally made it to the men’s locker room, Natasha and Hope as the only women on today’s mission breaking off along the way. Clint immediately picks up his duffel bag from the hooks where they all set their belongings before the mission and takes the stall and changing area closest to the door, Scott following suit after and taking the one opposite him.

Sam takes his own bag and stall with a salute and playful wink towards Steve and Bucky, the only remaining two standing in the communal area having not gotten in yet. It’s common knowledge that the two of them share a stall after every mission (frankly, just because they want the closeness after such taxing, stressful experiences. They all need time to get clean and regroup, Steve and Bucky just choose to do that- and most other things- together. Most of the time they’re too tired for much else, anyways- not _every_ time. But most times). 

Still, that doesn’t mean the team doesn’t like to tease on occasion. Sometimes, they mind (mostly when the teasing comes from Tony, thanks to how graphic he is about it- there have also been a few comments that Steve feels like have bordered on hurtful. He’s pretty sure Rhodey had reamed Tony out about that in private), but this is Sam, so neither of them even bat an eye when he calls out “try not to clog the drain!” before slamming his stall door shut. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and pats Steve’s back fondly before turning to grab both of their bags simultaneously from their hooks with his metal hand. “Bird brain,” he mutters under his breath. “You gonna pick out a stall for us, sweetheart?”

Steve yawns and picks at the thigh of his uniform pants where it’s stuck on him with sweat. “Yeah, I got it, Buck.”

“Lead the way, soldier.”

Bucky’s hand is back on him as Steve obeys and heads them both over to the stall in the back corner- it’s the one they almost always use, it being the slightest amount bigger than the rest and best suited for housing two showering super soldiers (if Steve has a private soft spot for how this is _their stall_ ….that’s his business).

Their duffels hit the bench that’s set up in the changing area with a muffled _thunk_ as Bucky tosses them down, leaning over and digging around his own to find their shampoo and conditioner immediately after. “You pack the shampoo in your bag this time?”

“I didn’t,” Steve says absentmindedly, already working on undoing the buckles on his belt to get out of his god forsaken sauna of a uniform. He glances up at Bucky’s sigh. “I was in a hurry. Besides, you’re the one obsessed with hair stuff, I assumed _you_ would pack it.”

Bucky snorts. “Is that your way of implying you don’t want me to wash your hair, sweetheart?” He tosses Steve a crooked grin over his shoulder when Steve makes an unhappy noise. “That’s what I thought. I’m sure I packed it, it’s probably just in the bottom of the damn bag like everything always is when we need it.”

Steve hangs his belt up on a hook next to the door and gets to work on his jacket. He wishes his uniform had less hooks. “You ever think we should just start bringing one bag instead of two?” he says, watching Bucky dig some more. “It’s not like we have anything in them the other shouldn’t see, and it’d probably save us some hassle.”

“You’re telling me you don’t have a pretty little number hidden in that bag of yours, babydoll?” Bucky teases. “Nothing you’ve been hiding away from me as a surprise after a long day’s work?” 

Steve rolls his eyes and tries to hold back the fond crinkling of his eyes, but doesn’t quite manage it. “I spent all day working too- and as if I’d need to hide something like that from _you,_ ” he says, mind briefly flashing back to their shared closet in the bedroom back home in Brooklyn. He wishes they were back there already- they could be, if Bucky would hurry it up with the damn shampoo.

“Good point,” Bucky hums. Steve’s just turned back to ask if he’s found their shit yet, jacket still halfway tugged off his arms when- “Aha! Got it,” Bucky exclaims triumphantly, flesh hand brandishing up their ziploc baggie full of their shower products like he’s struck gold. 

In terms of how gross they both currently are, he kind of has. Steve groans in relief, hanging his jacket on a hook as well. “Thank god. Now get naked, Barnes, I want to get clean and go _home_.”

“Sir, yes, _sir_ ,” Bucky sings, already getting to work on unbuckling his vest. Steve allows himself to peek for just a moment- the similarities his boyfriend’s new uniform has with his old is something that Steve can’t help but always let catch his eye- but eventually the feeling of his sweat-crusted pants pricking at his leg hair when he moves takes his attention back to stripping down. By the time he has his boots off and pants shoved down to his ankles, he’s groaning in relief as the air hits his skin.

God, he finally feels like he can breathe again.

Bucky just laughs at his blissed out expression, stepping out of his own pants to come over and yank Steve’s compression tee up, tapping at Steve’s sides until he cooperates and lifts his arms up so Bucky can help take it off him. He tosses it to the side afterwards and takes a pause from stripping to kiss Steve sweetly on the lips, a move completely contradicted by his smirk and teasing tone after when he says, “You smell terrible.”

Steve makes an indignant sound and shoves lightly at Bucky’s chest. “So do _you._ That’s what the shower is for, jerk.”

Bucky hums and leans in for another nuzzling kiss, smiling almost sleepily against Steve’s mouth after. “Guess we’d better get in, then.”

“Would already be in there if you weren’t distracting me,” Steve murmurs. 

Bucky grins wider and pecks his lips a last time. “Sorry, sunshine, let me help out a little to make it up to you, yeah?” And with that, before Steve can even respond, Bucky’s taking his hands and shoving Steve’s compression briefs down to his knees. Steve sputters as he does so, but Bucky just grins and pats his cheek. “Go start the water.”

“Jerk,” Steve grumbles, stepping out of his underwear and kicking them to the side. “Shoulda made you find your own stall.”

“Then who’d wash your hair?” Bucky teases after him.

The stalls are each relatively sound proof to the outside, so Steve doesn’t worry about anyone overhearing when he turns back and responds, “I’m leaving you for Sam.”

Bucky doesn’t miss a beat, throwing his shirt to the side and giving Steve another crooked grin. “Not if I get to him first, sunshine. Now go, I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and flicks his eyes pointedly down to Steve’s exposed ass, eyebrows quirking when he brings them back up. “Never would leave an ass as sweet as yours lonely for long,” he winks. 

He’s just as exhausted as Steve is, Steve knows, but he’s still doing his best to make Steve smile. Steve loves him endlessly for it, even when he has to play scandalized for the sake of the teasing. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, smiling tiredly. “Bring the shampoo in when you’re done.”

“You got it, Stevie.”

Steve doesn’t bother sliding the door completely shut behind him- it’s one of those frosted glass ones that makes him feel like he’s in a fancy hotel rather than SHIELD headquarters’ locker room. He leaves it cracked open enough on the side with the shower head so that Bucky will be able to step right in.

He also cranks on the water while he’s waiting in the meantime, setting it to what feels like a good temperature and standing under the nozzle until he deems it warm enough to step into, sighing contentedly as soon as he does so. It feels amazing, somehow simultaneously warm and cool against his skin, stream running down his back soft and silky, completely the opposite of the hell on earth his legs had been confined to earlier.

By the time the water hits him down there, he’s practically melting down the drain with it, gone so pliant thay Bucky smiles fondly as he steps into the shower. 

“Feeling a little better?” he asks quietly, sliding in beside Steve to duck his head under the spray and wet his hair, setting the shampoo and conditioner onto the shower shelf in the corner. “Know it was a rough one today.”

Steve hums when Bucky slides a hand to card through his wet hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “Still tired, but better now that we get to go home,” he murmurs. “You know how it is.”

Bucky _does_ know, better than anyone, how exhausted being Captain America leaves Steve even after the job is done. The uniform isn’t the only thing Steve hates about the job sometimes- the persona (and how wildly different the expectations are from who Steve actually is) make him feel almost at a loss in his own body sometimes. Like it isn’t really _his_ , even when he’s off the job- similar, in part, to how helpless and disconnected he’d felt from his body before the serum because of his health.

They’ve come up with a lot of ways for Steve to fight that feeling and remind himself it isn’t true, but Bucky still likes to check in after every mission and make sure Steve’s feeling mostly okay. 

Steve loves him endlessly for that, too. 

He puts a hand of his own in Bucky’s hair as well, turning the check-in back around on him. “How about you? Everyone got a little banged up today.” He can’t see any physical injuries on either of them, but he’s still worried enough to want to ask. 

Bucky just smiles and turns to press a kiss against Steve’s cheek. “I’m okay. I’ll be a-okay as soon as we get home and get a little sleep. You gonna skip tomorrow’s run with Sam? He looked pretty wiped out, too.”

Steve nods, starting to work on soaping up his upper body with the body wash Bucky hands him while Bucky cracks open the shampoo to start lathering it into Steve’s hair like he does every time they shower together after a mission. It’s a ritual Steve cherishes. “I think we all need the lie-in tomorrow,” he admits. “I’ll send him a text later. Maybe we could get lunch together instead?”

“That sounds nice.” Bucky smiles when Steve starts scrubbing at his chest as well. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“You wash my back, I’ll wash yours,” Steve says, slipping a hand under Bucky’s arms, smiling at the way the tickle of it makes him squirm. “Or however the saying goes.”

“Let me finish your hair first, _then_ we can see about your back. You know I’ve always got your six, though, sunshine,” Bucky teases lightly, tugging on Steve’s soapy strands. “C’mon, tilt back and rinse.” Steve does, and Bucky smiles, kisses the water off his eyelashes when it’s over. 

“Your turn,” Steve murmurs. He reaches for the shampoo to squirt a dollop on Bucky’s head, laughing when Bucky shoves up into his touch like a cat. 

Bucky starts massaging his hands up and down Steve’s back like he promised while Steve works at his hair, the both of them leaning comfortably into each other. He groans when Steve pushes his fingers firmly against his scalp and the tightened muscle on the back of his neck. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Steve just hums in response and continues on with his work, grabbing the conditioner next so that he can work it into Bucky’s hair. Bucky’s head falls back, eyes shut while Steve runs it down to the ends of his hair, sighing contentedly. 

“You know what the first thing I’m gonna do when we get home is?” he murmurs, not waiting for Steve to respond before going on. “I’m gonna get into bed and take the longest nap of my _life._ ”

“Oh?” Steve says back in amusement, laughing a little when Bucky purposely tickles his flesh hand over his stomach. “Am I invited?”

“‘Course, Stevie- you, me, some comfy clothes, a couple of blankets? That sound like a good time to you, sugar?” Bucky’s eyes are still close, shoulders slumped, but the suggestive tone he uses lets Steve know that’s meant to make him blush.

Since Bucky’s eyes are closed, he can’t see it, but Steve does. “Sounds like a great time, Buck,” he whispers back. “C’mon, let me rinse your hair out so we can finish washing up and get to those blankets, yeah?”

“You got it, Steve-o.”

They finish up relatively quickly after that, both of them finally breaking apart after rinsing off to wash their own legs and lower halves (Steve meant what he said when he said they were too tired after missions to fool around most of the time, but frankly it’s better not to risk either of them getting riled up pawing at each other’s wet asses- they are going to go home and _sleep_ , damnit).

Steve takes extra care with his legs just to make up for all the unpleasantness he had to deal with earlier, soaping them up extra and scrubbing to get every bit of dried sweat off- he thinks he might have forgotten the lotion he usually tosses into his bag for post-mission showering, but this’ll do for now. 

He’s still daydreaming about having them tangled in the blankets of their bed, pressed up close with one of Bucky’s legs slotted between them when he finally steps out of the shower behind Bucky, accepting the fluffy SHIELD supplied towel that’s passed back to him. “Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky uses his own towel to start rubbing at his hair, voice muffled when he shoots back, “No problem, Stevie.”

The changing area where they left their bags thankfully is heated enough to not make drying off _too_ unbearable, but Steve still shivers when he has to towel off his chest, nipples pebbling up in the exposure of the air when he takes the towel up to dry off his hair next. He’s pretty sure he comes out the other end of it with his hair sticking up funny, because Bucky takes one look at him after and laughs, looping his own damp towel around Steve’s neck to pull him in for a quick kiss.

“You look like a dandelion,” he says fondly, nosing into Steve’s clean hair and breathing in the fresh scent. “You gonna grant me a wish if I blow you later?”

Steve colors and rolls his eyes, pushing Bucky back playfully and leaning around him to grab his bag and take it to the other bench to get changed on. “Maybe after we get some sleep, Barnes. Tired and you’re _still_ a tease somehow, huh?”

“Don’t you know it, baby,” he grins back snapping his towel over to hit Steve in the ass and make him squeak. 

“Bucky!” he complains, hand covering the spot where he’d hit him. “Get dressed. I wanna get out of here in time to order something to eat on the way home.”

“Fine, but make sure it’s something with no crumbs, because I’m eating in bed and nothing is going to stop me,” Bucky retorts back, wrapping his towel around his neck and leaning over to tuck their shampoo and other shower products into the ziploc bag they came from. “You okay with taking the subway back?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Steve responds, setting his own towel on the bench next to his bag and unzipping it to pull out the white tee he’d packed to change into (one of the ones Bucky likes teasing him about wearing so tight) and smoothing back his hair before tugging it over his head and down his torso. Adjusting the wrinkles, he thinks Bucky may have a point about how tight it is on him- but Steve likes how his arms and chest look in it, so what does it really matter? They’re comfortable. He likes to be comfortable.

He spots his briefs sticking out of the bag’s top and pulls those on next, deciding to grab his deodorant and put it on in the meantime as well- his socks he always saves for last because there is nothing more that he _hates_ than accidentally getting them wet and having to walk out in them, a thought he’s still wrinkling his nose over when it happens. 

Disaster- or at least his shit sense of luck today- strikes when he reaches a hand into his bag to pull out his black Nike sweats and pulls it back out holding what he’s beginning to realize is the black Nike _skirt_ he’s been wearing around the house after workouts lately instead.

 _Oh, shit._

He’s so taken aback by the sight of pleats rather than pant legs that he almost drops it back in the back, only catching himself at the last moment to keep it in hand. He looks down at it, then back to the open pocket of his back where a sinking feeling is telling him his pants aren’t present. 

Oh, god. An overwhelming feeling of panic wells up in his throat about being caught quite literally _with his pants down_ and- his hand tightens- nothing but a skirt and his briefs to pull back up. The desperately rational part of him hopes that this is just like Bucky and the shampoo earlier, and the sweats are just tucked at the bottom of the bag because Steve is needing them.

But flashing back to how hurried Steve had been before they left...how the pants and skirt are the same color, material, and logo, easily mistakable for each other while in a hurry….He swallows, hard, and prays that he’ll find something- _anything-_ peeking back up at him when he opens his bag up completely and anxiously looks inside. 

He’s greeted by nothing but his socks and tennis shoes, and a wave of panic surges up in him so hard that his voice comes out shaky when he turns his head to ask Bucky, “You have any spare bottoms?”

Bucky, who’s already dressed save for his sneakers, shakes his head and looks at him with confusion that turns to concern when he sees Steve’s tight expression. “Why, what’s wrong?” Swallowing the distressed noise that wants to break free, Steve helplessly holds out the skirt for Bucky to take a look at. “Oh,” Bucky says. 

Yeah. _Oh_. Steve wants to cry. 

The skirt thing, it- it isn’t anything new or out of the ordinary between them. It’s nothing out of the ordinary for _Steve._ He’s been wearing them since 1933 when he saw a red A-line skirt in a store window and thought it might make him like his sickly body he couldn’t keep from having problems a little more. He’d kept wearing them because it _did,_ had made him feel more at home and in control of his body than getting in fights ever did- obviously, the getting in fights hadn’t stopped, but neither did the skirt-wearing.

It wasn’t really a sex thing, either. It was more than just that- he liked wearing them casually just as much as he liked having Bucky call him pretty while sliding a hand up under the hem. He only could do it in the apartment, behind closed doors where he felt comfortable enough to put it on and wait on Bucky to get home for dinner, always saying hello to Steve with a kiss on the cheek and a teasing “you gonna give me a twirl, sunshine?” that still makes Steve blush every time he hears it to this day- because he’d kept up his habit of wearing skirts _after_ the serum, too. 

He thinks that maybe it had grown even more important to him after his body changed, to be honest- like he said, they’ve come up with a lot of ways for Steve to feel more comfortable and connected to his body- this is just one he’s been doing even before the serum, when he felt cut off from himself by his poor health rather than expectations about being a national icon for the perfect alpha male. It’s a connection both to his body and his past, one that’s always brought him a sense of comfort and belonging in his own skin. 

Throwing on a skirt isn’t just comforting, either- it’s comfort _able._ Steve likes the way they feel around his legs and give him room to breathe, especially after a workout or when he’s got himself a bit down and wants to feel prettier. It’s nice being able to indulge in something that makes him feel more like Steve Rogers who likes wearing skirts instead of Captain America, who can’t even swear without getting shocked looks.

Sometimes _all_ of that persona feels stifling to Steve, even the physical parts- all the kevlar and leather is heavy to wear, the compression stuff he wears under the uniform is too tight, and frankly...he gets tired of it. He wants a break, which is what makes wearing the skirts feel even more freeing, both physically and emotionally when he gets to shed the Cap act and like things for himself. _Things_ including kissing Bucky Barnes and wearing skirts around their shared home. 

He likes the skirts, and he cherishes how he feels wearing them more than almost anything. But he hadn’t been planning on getting them involved in this predicament. 

Bucky’s flesh hand landing on Steve’s shoulder snaps him out of the spiraled silence he’d fallen into, a look of concern written across his face. “Hey, you’re alright, Steve,” he soothes. “C’mon, take a deep breath. It’s fine, you can wear my pants, if you want. I can change back into my uniform ones. Or I can go back home and get you your own pair. We can see if anyone else is still around to ask if you can borrow something. It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s fine. I promise.”

Steve’s eyes dart over to where Bucky’s pants are crumpled in the corner, still covered in blood and dirt from the mission and no doubt crusted with sweat, and despite the fact that he feels overwhelmingly put on the spot, he shakes his head and tries to steady his breathing. “Fuck- no, Buck, you just got clean- I don’t want to do that to you-“ he rushes out, gripping the skirt in his hand so hard his knuckes turn white.

Bucky is quick to gentle his panic again, cupping the side of his face and speaking to him in a low voice, as if he’s talking to a frightened animal and not a pantsless super soldier clutching an athletic skirt. “Hey, that’s alright, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “You don’t want that. What about the other options? Do either of those sound good or do you want to try and think of something else?”

For a long moment, Steve is silent. _Everything_ is silent thanks to the sound proofing save for the drip of the shower head and their breathing. 

He considers the options. Bucky going home and getting him a pair would mean Steve gets pants, but their apartment is a good distance away from here even by fastest route. Bucky would have to go home and then come all the back just to go home again. Their napping and dinner wouldn’t be happening anytime soon, and generally it’d just be inconvenient for both of them.

Seeing if anyone else is here to ask- Steve isn’t going to kid himself, he knows that everyone else has definitely gone home by now, he and Bucky spent long enough in the shower for them all to have cleared out and be fast asleep in bed by now. There most likely isn’t anyone here, and Steve knows that. They both do. 

So, squaring his shoulders, options fully considered, he ducks his head down and glances at the skirt still held in his hand. “I….I think I might just wear it home, Buck,” he says softly. 

Bucky doesn’t even blink, just falls quiet for a moment and lets Steve’s shoulder go to curl around Steve’s hand where it’s still clutching the skirt. “Is that what you want?” he asks gently. Steve can tell by the tone of his voice and squeeze of his fingers that Bucky isn’t asking out of judgement or pity- he just wants to make sure Steve is okay, like he always has.

Steve nods and gives him a tight lipped smile, voice a little shaky but nonetheless honest when he answers. “Yeah, Buck. It’s what I want.”

And although the anxiety is still churning in his stomach, this _is_ what he wants. He’s fine with what he’s holding in his hands. He likes wearing skirts (Nike tennis skirts are even his favorite- listen, they’re breathable, practical, and the cut makes his legs look _killer_ ) and he’s _Steve Rogers,_ damnit. He’s not running away from wearing what he wants to while he goes home from saving the world with his boyfriend. He just _saved the world_.

People can handle it if they see Captain America wearing a skirt on the subway with the White Wolf- he’s not Captain America right now, anyways. He’s off the clock. 

So, gently nudging Bucky’s hand off of his own, Steve unbunches the skirt from his hand with slightly trembling fingers and goes through the familiar motions he’s gone through a thousand times before of folding his legs up and through the held out elastic of the skirt’s waist, tugging up slowly until he has it settled on his hips where he wants it.

He smooths out the hem after he’s done and takes in a deep breath, looking up at Bucky with an expression he hopes is determined. “Let’s get our shoes on and get outta here, Buck.”

Bucky gives him a proud look and a fond kiss to the forehead that makes something in Steve’s stomach settle a bit. “Alright, Stevie. Just give me a sec to get ‘em on.”

When tugging on his own tennis shoes (black Nikes, ironically enough. At least he matches), Steve’s hands feel only the slightest bit unsteady. Even with all the conviction he has about knowing this is what he wants to do, he can’t help being a little nervous- but having Bucky with him helps.

He immediately steps to Steve’s side when they’re both ready to go, picking up both bags and tugging them up over his metal shoulder again, free hand on Steve’s lower back feeling like an anchor keeping Steve from being swept away in the anxiety that immediately wells up when he feels the normally comforting sensation of the hem of his skirt brushing against his thighs. 

His hitched inhale doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he says gently, rubbing his hand up and down Steve’s back. “But it’s gonna be okay either way.”

Steve squares his shoulders again. “I know I don’t _have_ to,” he says tightly. “But- I want to. I’m going to.” He takes in a deep breath and takes a determined step forward towards the stall’s exit. “Let’s go home, Buck.”

The first five paces towards the door to the _outside_ feel like an achievement, somehow, but opening it and _actually_ stepping outside makes Steve feel like he’s just bared his entire soul. Which feels kind of stupid, considering no one is there besides the two of them, but still.

This is the first time Steve has ever been anywhere outside of a private space with a skirt on, so forgive him if he feels a little...exposed. Physically _and_ emotionally. He pushes through, though, making it out the door of the locker room and towards the SHIELD exit to the street with nothing but his own stubborn determination and Bucky’s hand on his back pushing him forward.

They surprisingly don’t run in to anyone on the way out- but as they approach the glass doors that lead to the exit…Steve has to take another deep breath and swallow hard before he does something dumb, like throw up or run away screaming.

 _Fuck_. He can do this. He _can_. He wants to. It isn’t a big deal. He isn’t ashamed of liking things like skirts in his home _or_ on the streets, and he’ll be damned if _anyone_ is going to make him feel that way- including himself.

The last step towards the door has him clenching his jaw so hard he’s afraid it might crack, but he doesn’t have time to think about that- because with a gentle shove to the door and Steve’s back from Bucky, the two of them are walking out the door of SHIELD’s headquarters and making their way onto the street with the hem of Steve’s skirt fluttering in the breeze of the cars passing by them. 

They don’t stop walking, but Bucky leans in as soon as they get out to whisper “You holding up?” into Steve’s ear.

They’ve passed a grand total of no one yet seeing as SHIELD’s headquarters isn’t exactly in the most obvious part of town, but Steve still feels a bit overwhelmed just being outside in such an exposing outfit to begin with. He nods, though, gladly letting Bucky move his hand to lace with Steve’s so that they’re holding hands walking down the sidewalk towards the subway. “I’m fine, Buck.”

“Just let me know if that changes,” Bucky murmurs. “Anyone looks at you the wrong way and I’ll punch ‘em, got it?”

Steve snorts and takes the relaxation Bucky is clearly trying to offer him with the joke. “Like I couldn’t punch them myself.”

“We’ll do it together, how about that?” Bucky offers teasingly, squeezing Steve’s hand lightly.

“Sounds like a deal, Buck.”

The next few minutes pass easily with no one around besides a few far off people across the street that don’t pay any mind to them, and Steve finds himself settling down a bit, content to watch the sights of the city as they both tiredly make their way through it towards the subway station they always take home.

They definitely have enough money to not _have_ to take it, but they like to most of the time anyways. It makes them both nostalgic. Despite all the growth they’ve done in this century together and apart, they still like clinging to the old just a little bit. 

He’s so caught up in thinking about all the memories of them around the city together, that he almost doesn’t even notice when the first person walks past them on the street. It’s no one particularly outstanding- only a young person who looks to have just gotten out of a service industry job based off of the black clothes they’re wearing- they don’t even give the black clothing _Steve_ is wearing a second glance before walking past them and down around the corner.

Steve blinks. It’s oddly...nice that someone doesn’t care about him, as weird as that sounds. Bucky squeezes his hand, smiles at him reassuringly, and they continue their way to the station. 

It’s mostly smooth sailing after that- Steve still feels a bit nervous every time the breeze pushes his skirt up too far and has to squeeze Bucky’s hand when he gets the first odd look thrown at him from a businessman talking on the phone while walking by them- but nothing... _bad_ really happens. No one stops to make fun of him or gives him a dirty look (at least that he can see). It feels almost too good to be true...by the time he and Bucky make it to the train they want to take, Steve almost feels like he’s dreaming. 

He’s _here_ , in public, wearing a skirt while holding hands with his boyfriend on the subway. The backs of his legs stick to the seat when he sits, and he has to tug the bottom of his skirt down out of an absentminded fear of someone sneaking a picture, but overall….it’s okay. 

Even when an older woman throws him a dirty look from across the car, he’s okay. The whole ordeal is still nerve wracking, especially considering it was unplanned, but...he’s okay. 

He’s okay. This is okay. 

Something in him gets a bit emotional about that. Maybe it’s the buildup of feelings he’s always had about the constant public perception of him as alpha male _Captain America_ rather than just _Steve Rogers_ \- even with things to help reaffirm and express himself like the skirts, he still struggles with making _himself_ feel that way- but the fact that it’s okay for Steve Rogers to wear what he likes, even in public...

He has to bury his face in Bucky’s shoulder for a second to collect himself. He’s been in the new century for years, now, but sometimes he feels like the new realities of it are never going to stop hitting. 

He doesn’t actually end up lifting his head until they make it to their stop. One, because he’s tired as hell still, and two, because he doesn’t feel like shattering the confidence he’s built up with letting himself have this experience and see what it’s like to express himself and let himself have this thing that he loves in public, however brief.

In all honesty- he doesn’t know yet if he’ll be wearing a skirt in public again, or if he does, when the next time will be. He’s not sure. But that’s not the point- the point is that now he knows he _can_. He knows now that it’s okay, that no matter if he gets a nasty comment over it in the future or has to deal with it ending up on the internet tomorrow...he did it today and nothing went wrong. He did it and he’s _okay._ He did it because he wanted to, and no one stopped him. 

He doesn’t move his head, and Bucky doesn’t ask him to. Just sits quietly and lets Steve seek as much strength in him as he needs to. 

Again, Steve loves him endlessly for it. 

Getting to their apartment after they get off the subway passes almost like a haze, Steve so focused on how weightless he’s feeling that he barely registers anyone’s eyes on him. He does smile at the young girl who holds open the door to their apartment building, though. She smiles back, and Steve feels like beaming, even with the nerves fluttering in his stomach still.

It’s New York City, he figures. People have seen weirder things than a man in a skirt. 

That’s the first thing he says when they get inside their place and Bucky immediately asks “How’re you holding up, honey?” while dropping their bags on the floor.

Afterwards, Bucky just raises his eyebrows and pulls Steve in for a quick kiss. “That’s because men in skirts aren’t weird, dumbass,” he says, voice exasperated and proud at the same time. 

Steve rolls his eyes back and tiredly leans into Bucky’s chest, letting him slide a hand up under his t-shirt to stroke at his back. “ _I_ know that, jerk,” he murmurs. “But you know how people can be.” He pauses to kiss him, but adds on after in a hushed voice, “Was nice seeing a bit of a change, to be honest. Even if it was a bit intimidating going out like that.”

Bucky gives him a kiss of his own and hugs him close. “Proud of you, you know. I know that must’ve been hard.”

“It was a little difficult , but I think it was the right thing for me to do,” Steve admits quietly, sleepily leaning into Bucky’s embrace.

Bucky kisses his hair and pats his ass fondly through the skirt. “Looked good as hell while doing it too, sunshine.” They stay like that for a moment, just holding each other in a tired embrace that has Steve slumped down and almost dozing on his feet, but eventually Bucky pulls back to murmur, “Wanna go take that nap I promised you?”

Steve hums. He’s still exhausted, and this whole skirt ordeal has left him feeling a bit emotionally drained as well. “We forgot to order food,” he says drowsily, but he yawns into Bucky’s neck and nods. “But I think that nap sounds _amazing_.”

“We can eat when we wake up,” Bucky hums, pulling Steve towards the bedroom. “It’s been a pretty big day.”

“Sure has,” Steve mutters. With all the stuff that’s gone on to get them home, thinking about the mission they’d just gotten back from feels like a distant memory, but now that the whole skirt ordeal is over the exhaustion is finally caught all the way back up.

He feels like he’s shedding a monumental weight off himself when he tugs off his skirt and leaves it pooled on the floor. It leaves his chest light with what he thinks is happiness when he lets himself fall onto the bed and tuck under the covers against Bucky’s side. They end up with Steve’s legs tangled with Bucky’s just like he’d been daydreaming about earlier.

Objectively, this is better. Curling up in Bucky’s arms is _always_ better. “Thank you for being here for it,” he mumbles into his neck, kissing the skin afterwards and holding Bucky tighter. 

Bucky huffs and tugs Steve closer, eyes falling shut even while he’s still talking, voice so sleepy that Steve thinks he’s already halfway to being asleep. His words are still genuine, though. “I’ll be here for all the days, big _or_ small, Steve. I love _you_ big, you know that?”

“Love you big right back, Buck.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! steve’s self expression is very important to me and i hope you feel the same. bucky & i both love him a whole lot.


End file.
